


we are frayed and i'm so afraid

by prettyshiroic (dinosuns)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Reality, Angst, Bittersweet, Dark, Developing Relationship, Dimension Travel, Final Battle, Future Fic, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Platonic Relationships, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: “How do we get back?” Keith asks. His question seems to be the wrong one. Confusion is quickly replaced by a cataclysmic realisation. Oh.“Pidge... can we get back?”





	we are frayed and i'm so afraid

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to arrest me you're too late because i'm turning myself in. seriously though, this is quite heavy in the sense of deep emotional explorations so i rated it M for that reason. be careful!

The strain of this fight has stripped them all apart ten times over at least. But Keith supposes that’s what happens when your opponent is the universe. In the literal sense. Voltron is battered, the lions are worn. The elation of dismantling the Galra Empire is eclipsed by a danger far greater than anything they ever expected. Coming right for them, engulfing them. The things that lurk deep in the rift are hungry and they are prepared to ravenously feast on every corner of this universe.

So Voltron stepped up to the plate, and redefined the meaning of dinner and a show.

Keith isn’t sure how much time has passed. But they’ve been holding the creatures at bay long enough for sweat to be cascading down his face and for his eyes to roll back into his head each time they get rammed hard enough to shake them. Which is a lot. But they can’t stop. They’re not finished yet.

Even when the gravity is growing and with it a pressure that presses relentlessly down on them. Keith’s vision blurs, his bones feel like they’re being crushed. Maybe they are. It’s difficult to make sense of anything besides the action he throws himself into.

It happens so fast. They make contact and there’s a piercing screech. Tremors rock through Voltron. Jagged and fast. Keith’s head slams against the back of his seat. Hard. The whole universe sounds as if it’s screaming. Maybe it is. A nasty tear like that is bound to hurt even the cosmic dimensions that hold everything together. Voltron is doing its best to seal it up, patching a bandaid across the gash.

Nothing is really tangible anymore. The creatures takes shapes and then they don’t. Voltron moves and then it doesn’t. They plough forwards so fast Keith feels his skin peeling, only to slow so much he suddenly can’t breathe. Pidge said it had something to do with time stretching around them whilst space warping is across them. Or something. More forces are colliding than they are aware of, or used to.

But then comes a single voice Keith will always listen out for, will always hear wherever he is. However far. _No matter what._

“Now, Keith!” Shiro calls. It’s laced with the same gruelling pain they’re all undoubtedly experiencing.

Keith doesn’t hesitate. Not for a single second. This is it. The final strike. He plunges the red bayard forwards and twists. The motion has him howling in agony. There’s a terrible audible crack and his visions goes white. His voice is hoarse and sore as he screams through it until all that escapes his lips is a dry gasping splutter. Again and again and again-

Until everything disappears.

* * *

 

The unknown can be as frightening as it is enticing. When Keith wakes, he’s in a bunker underground. The room is small, dimly lit. But it’s certainly durable. Built for utility, not luxury. In the corner sits a girl. Her skin is green, with red lines dancing across her forehead in curious spirals. She’s wearing armour, bronze and emerald. It looks a little like something from an ancient fairytale, only daintier. Somehow more whimsical and elusive. As Keith stirs on the makeshift bed, the girl looks up from the holopad. Her eyes go wide. The light makes them look a shimmery silver.

She’s on her feet in moments. Then she’s diving forwards. Then she’s yanking him into a fierce hug. Keith almost falls back in surprise. There's so little time to catch up, to establish the situation. He settles for awkwardly patting her back in the meantime. His mind is reeling. This isn’t right. He doesn’t understand. There are names bursting into vivid flames with each blink but he can't for the life of him string the letters together. 

“You’re okay.” There’s a strange rhythm to her voice, laced with a tone Keith doesn’t recognise. The syllables are too open, more like echoes of words.

“What’s going on?” Keith hisses, unable to keep the alarm out his voice. There are bigger questions bubbling beneath the surface, but he’s too startled to force them out. Time has him in a chokehold, space has him totally submerged. It’s a dizzying combination.  

Pulling back, the girl clasps his shoulder. Keith nudges her hand away out of instinct alone. Only one hand fits there, has always been there. A constancy grounding him. Now it’s gone. Everyone is gone. And finally he knows these names, his name.  _Shiro. Where’s Shiro, where am I, what-_

“The war’s begun to take back the capital,” the girl supplies. There’s a gloomy undertone to her words. Well. That explains the bunker. But it doesn’t explain everything else. Because that can’t be right, _this can’t be right we won._ Patting his face, as if to nudge his focus back, the girl forces a smile. The touch sinks too far into his skull, as if his skin is clay and she’s moulding him with her fingers. Keith rakes a hand over and it comes back smooth. It’s unsettling. All of this.

“Now I know you’re alright, I’m going out there. They need me on the frontlines. When you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for you.”

Keith pushes the sheet off, stumbling to his feet. He’s ready _now._ D amn this. He’s ready for words that make sense, for something that gives perspective to the picture he’s seeing. Only there’s nothing. This life isn’t his, it can’t be his. He’s a paladin of Voltron. Where is the team where are they where is _Shiro_ \- a sharp throbbing in his head has him leaning against the wall. Clamping his eyes shut, Keith groans. It’s too much to process yet not nearly enough. Nothing is tangible. Just like at the rift. Hand rubbing his forehead, Keith opens his eyes. It takes a moment to readjust. He thinks. Time is elastic here, rippling in unpleasant waves.

Something snaps. Again, it's intangible. The girl loads her weapon, pulling the ladder down. As she straps the rifle to her back, she levels him with a raised eyebrow that is suspiciously familiar. Keith can’t place it, but he feels like he ought to. She seems to be under the impression they’re good friends, comrades at the very least. Maybe they are. Somehow. With a cheeky salute and subtle grin, she leaps onto the ladder. Her agility and precision is impressive.   

“See you on the other side, Akira.”  

Keith blinks, mouth opening only to close again uselessly. His knees buckle, unable to hold his weight. Slumped against the wall, Keith looks up. His spine stretches back too far but the wall doesn’t seem to stop it. Every movement feels unnatural. Too light. But that can't be right. Because there’s a weight shackling him, holding everything in a terrifying stasis before propelling it forward again. Despite experiencing this endlessly at the rift, it isn't any less surreal.

The hatch opens, and the sound of war rains down through the bunker. He gets a glimpse of a crimson sky through billowing smoke. Muffled shouts. People barking out orders. Gunfire. Then the hatch closes and it’s all gone. So is the girl who called him a name that doesn’t belong to him.  

As his eyes slip shut, exhaustion tugging him closer, Keith realises he never got her name in return.

* * *

 

There’s a dreadful agonising twist in his gut - it tells Keith that he won’t ever see her in the bunker again.

He doesn’t.

* * *

 

The planet has a name Keith isn’t sure how to translate, but it sits in a star system called Farax X3R4 which he’s never heard of or seen on any Altean map. In fact, there’s not a single system Keith can trace in this universe. It’s unnerving. More unnerving is that according to the data on the holopad Keith trawls through, the planet he’s on has been at war with its neighbour for six hundred years. The bunker is smack in the middle of the capital city, under the enemy's occupation.

It doesn’t look like the war is stopping anytime soon, despite the budding resilience of the resistance fighters.

Keith sets the holopad down, shoving the heel of his hand against his brow. It’s unclear just how long he’s been in the bunker. There’s not much on the holopad he can understand besides a few stray files. Keith has lost track of time, or rather time has lost track of him. Abandoned him in this place he doesn’t belong. Glancing down at his leg, Keith hisses.

He had barely managed to get halfway up the ladder to the only exit - the hatch which leads to a warzone - before he staggered against it pathetically. Whatever happened to him here, his body made it clear it’s far from recovered. As he slid back down to the floor, he had landed at a pretty bad angle. Enough to cause his leg to give way completely. Now he’s huddled in the corner of the bunker, idly scrolling through the holopad. It's a simple mindless task. Evasion to burrow the pang that continues to strike deep within. 

He’s waiting for the impossible, yearning for it. No, he's  _begging_ for it. The mantra is etched into his soul, looping round and round. It won't cease. Quietly, he searches. But he can’t find what he’s desperately chasing: something familiar. Someone. Anyone. No - not anyone. A very specific group of people. Their faces flicker behind his eyes as he closes them. Shiro is at the centre, coaxing him further forward. But it doesn’t work. In the sand, Shiro was a mirage. Out here, he’s not even a ghost or a forbidden whisper. Because there’s no trace of him, of _any of them._

Snapping his eyes open, Keith gasps for air. It’s in that moment the holopad screen lights up with a call. Keith doesn’t hesitate to accept. He’s all too hopeful about what it means. The screen goes static, images floating in and out of focus until the connection stabilises. What Keith sees as the clarity builds drags the curve of his lips upwards.  

The hope he dared to entertain doesn't deal him a devastating blow.

* * *

 

Pidge calls it a ‘singularlity splice sever’ - SSS for short. She describes it as their original universe’s immune system joining the fight against the rift, but due to the immense strain it then failed to recognise what to cast out and what to keep in inside of itself.  

“It’s kind of like this,” Pidge spews her explanation rapidly, and Keith can’t stop staring at the screen reverently.

He's not sure when he gave himself wholeheartedly to these people, but it's abundantly clear that's the case now. Despite the shift in clothes - nobody seems to be in paladin armour - and scenery, the others look fine. Safe. Substantially better than being ripped apart by the fabric of space in their lions. It’s almost a crushing relief to see their faces. Only, there is one glaring problem, Shiro won’t meet his eyes and Keith isn’t foolish enough to believe it’s just because he’s paying attention to Pidge. Something is amiss. Then again, from the sounds of things, _everything_ in their collective timeline is scrambled. 

“We stitched it all back up, but the rift got infected and the infection is us so we were attacked by it.”

“Or,” Hunk holds up a hand. Shiro still won’t look at Keith. Maybe the camera is off angle, or maybe- “Sorry Pidge, let me try explain it real quick. It’s like we made a really nice calzone but we went too far on the stuffing. So now it’s crammed and the dough stretched. And - yeah, it definitely worked. It sealed. But it couldn’t stretch far enough over some of the corners so some bits didn’t make it back in.”

“I don’t really get it,” Lance admits, head in his hands.

“We're the bits. When the rift closed it split from the inside and took us down with it,” Keith replies. He elects to ignore the flash of surprise across Pidge’s face. He might not know the right terminology, but he understands the concept enough. Part of him wonders if he speaks it out loud himself it'll sink in and feel less of a living nightmare. Somehow, that would be kinder. You can wake up from nightmares. “Now we’re all alive in different realities.”

The bunker shakes violently. Keith doesn’t spare a glance up. Potentially it's irrational, but Keith isn't taking any chances. If he gets distracted, they may just slip through his hands again. On the screen, Shiro frowns. He’s wearing a red cloak which covers some kind of dark undersuit. The shade is bold and blazing, and as brilliant as everything he is. If the circumstances were better, Keith would've called it up into the discussion. 

“Did you hear from Allura and Coran?”

“I couldn’t get a feed, but Allura managed to send back a message.” Pidge holds up a tablet for them to get a look. Keith tries to read it regardless of the fact the holopad has divided the screen into tiny segments for each of them and he doesn’t know Altean. Sensing the struggles of deciphering, Pidge continues. “They’re fine, and so are the lions. They’re actually still in the same reality we came from.”

Well, that’s some good news. Coran and Allura have been through enough displacement. Over ten thousand years of it. Having them on the other side is reassuring in other ways too. Immediately, Keith starts connecting the dots. If the lions are still back there, then the rift misplaced only certain kinds of energy. Maybe. 

“How do we get back?” He asks. Every inch of him is itching to get the hell out of this place. The bunker is only getting colder, and his one way out leads to a battlefield he has little desire to head into. Not to mention, he can hardly walk on his leg. Overall, it’s a recipe for disaster. But if Pidge has a plan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get everyone home. If that means diving into no man's land up there, then so be it. 

Pidge bristles and adjusts her glasses. His question seems to be the wrong one. Confusion is quickly replaced by a cataclysmic realisation. Oh. Oh no. No no no  _Shiro-_ Panic rises in Keith’s chest. The others sense it enough to grow uneasy alongside him. 

“Pidge...  _c_ _an_ we get back?”

It’s in moments like these where Keith can appreciate the lack of dancing around the subject. Directness. Hard facts and impartial truths. Pidge doesn’t waste any time buffering or lessening the impact of what’s imminent, what’s been on the horizon in this strange land the entire time. There is absolutely no way she could soften this, make this closer to anything remotely okay. It’s so out of her hands, of _all_ their hands. Keith grips the holopad tighter, bracing himself. 

“No.”

One word. Deadly and disarming. The force knocks the breath from Keith’s lungs. _No._ He can't accept that. He won't. Life enjoys throwing him a curveball more often than not, Keith takes up the challenge each time and he doesn't stop until he's reached his goal. This is no different. 

"Okay. So we can't go back, but that doesn't mean we can't go-"

"-Keith, sorry. But it won't work. Going back is just another way of saying jumping through realities." 

Things start spinning. _No no no._ Words ebb in and out of his reach. These realities they’ve been tossed into, discarded by their own universe, they’re permanent. Irreversible. Keith’s finds a familiar steel-grey in the haze of colours and latches onto it. Shiro is looking, finally he’s looking his way. The eye contact isn’t grounding like it used to be in the reality where they could stand shoulder to shoulder or back to back. But it’s something. Something tangible, for the first time. And as sound returns to Keith, he realises he’s been absently repeating one name over and over again. Shiro’s lips move silently, but the screen is too grainy. The words evade Keith. Lance’s, however, don’t.

“Gee, Pidge. You didn’t think maybe that was something important to open this call with?” The former blue paladin folds his arms, defensively. Pidge glares, seething at his audacity. Keith doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t blame Lance either, though. There’s no set way to deal with this, yet alone process it.  

“I’m sorry, okay? I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you guys but it seemed better to explain it first.”

“Explain what? That we can never go home? That we can never even be back in our own reality or any reality where we're together?”

Hearing it vocalised so _explicitly_ is agonising. _Any reality where we're together._ Lance is crossing a line the longer he speaks, carving angry thick marks into the space between them. He’s understandably upset, but he’s throwing it in the wrong places. In the background, Hunk is murmuring to himself. Mindless panicked babbling. Keith doesn’t listen, it feels too invasive. He’s not sure what to say. Shiro remains quiet. Distant. Keith's fingers twitch involuntarily, curling around the holopad. The metal is a little cooler than Shiro's prosthetic. Oh god. Keith sets the tablet down on his lap, staring blankly down at it.  

“It’s not like it’s my fault, Lance! My _brother_ is out there in another dimension and I’ll never see him again. Instead of using my one and only call to talk to him for the last time, I chose to call you guys. I’ve bent the laws of _spacetime_ for this to even be possible!”

Everyone falls quiet at that. The last time. There’s no other meaning that can possibly have. Glancing up at the ceiling, Keith bites down on his lip before the trembling gives way for something he won’t be able to contain. The truth unravels in the worst of ways. Apparently, this version of reality didn’t give him a lot of options. The war is still going outside. There’s no supplies in sight. The resistance are fighting a revolution right above his head.

And he’ll never see them again. He'll never see Shiro again. 

“I’m so sorry Pidge…” Shiro offers. But this is no longer Voltron, and the distance between them all is a little too far to give his words their usual comfort.

“How long we got?” Keith reaches out to the screen. His fingers graze over Shiro’s face slowly. Nobody seems to see it or give any indication they notice. The camera feed mostly shows down to their shoulders in average quality. Shiro’s eyes snap over to him. Keith drags his hand back, wincing. His fingers burn.

“About half a varga.”

“So around twenty minutes,” Lance whispers.

Keith nods weakly. He has no way to tell the time down here, no way to monitor its passing. This whole thing could end before he ever expects it to, or it could linger in the most excruciating of ways. Both options have the capacity to be soul-shattering. Either way, Keith is underprepared for the aftermath.   

“We could tell each other about where we are,” Pidge suggests with a shrug that is nowhere near as easy as it looks. “It’s not like we’ll be able to send each other postcards.”

Maybe she’s trying to joke, maybe she isn’t. Nobody laughs. There’s too much fear edging into Pidge’s voice, breaking apart the words before they can fully form. Listening to it has moisture collecting in Keith’s eyes. Pidge should never sound like that. Broken. Defeated. They  _won._ They gave everything. It's so unfair. 

“Well wherever you are, you and your genius brain are going to change the world,” Keith says because he needs her to hear it. Have something to aim for.

“I know.” Where there would usually be a smug smile is a cheerless grimace. “But this place isn’t so bad. It reminds me a little of Olkarion, only bigger. I have an uncle, well technically I have six uncles here but I’ve only met one so far.”

Keith perks up at that. So Pidge had met people who seemed to know her too. The girl in the armour comes to mind. She never came back.  

“Lance would like it where I am,” Hunk chips in. It’s the first thing he’s said since the news. Keith pushes his thoughts away, giving Hunk his whole attention. The yellow paladin talks often in just as much of a hurry as Pidge, only it’s a little less fluent and littered with self-interjections. Right now, he’s talking even faster and it’s less stable. Collapsing in on itself at the end of every sentence. “This planet has even more water than earth. Honestly. It’s also super hot because there are two suns, and the people are really friendly. We’ve been building a cool device which runs on Duroxinite and-”

“-What’s that?” It’s weird to hear Pidge asking for clarification on something so scientific. But the conversation is slipping into the pretence of something normal. The least Keith can do is indulge them if that’s what will make this easier for them.

“Oh yeah, you guys won’t have it where you are. Figures. Universes are all different. It’s like, uh, quintessence I guess. But it’s kind of stringy and is like super efficient for fuelling machines and stuff.”

“I’m on earth. At least, an earth that exists in another reality,” Lance says to the shock of the group. His eyes are vacant, expression strangely dull. With the admission, that erratic outburst from before starts to make a little more sense. As does the confusion at Pidge’s explanation of what happened. Perhaps Lance thought he had moved through space alone. Not entire _universes._ The possibilities of how he spent his first few hours on earth are genuinely painful to imagine. Keith clenches a fist, averting his gaze. Maybe Lance looked for his family. Maybe he went home and found nobody there. Maybe as Pidge called he still thought he really _was_ home.

Despite being trapped beneath a war he has no chance of escaping, Keith grapples with Lance's reality. He can’t grasp how much it must’ve hurt, to be somewhere familiar that is entirely different. To be back, after wanting that for so long, but not home. Keith is stuck in a completely new world. The strokes of the brush that painted this picture aren’t at all recognisable. In comparison, Lance fell into a deceptive reprint - a meticulously crafted replica of the genuine artefact.

There are no words of consolation for that, for any of this.

“How about you, Shiro?” Pidge knows better than to press Lance to speak more.

Keith tenses, pulling the holopad back into his hands. Despite the awful circumstances, so far everyone is in a better place than Keith. They’re not in danger. His time to share is creeping up. But they don’t need to know where he ended up. It’s not okay, but it’s fine. Keith’s been rooted in action all his life. It makes sense that this reality decided it wasn’t through with him fighting battles yet. So long as their universe is safe, so long as _Shiro_ is safe, it’ll be alright. Keith holds his breath, desperately hoping to Gods he doesn’t believe in that wherever Shiro is he’s somewhere he deserves to be.

“Well, um…” Shiro turns his head cheeks going pink. That catches Keith’s attention immediately. Next comes a scratch to the back of his neck, which has to mean he’s either embarrassed or stalling. Shiro bites his lip and hastily spits the words out. “Apparently I’m a dad?”

Keith grips the holopad tighter, eyes wide. A flurry of voices float in across the comms.

“Woah... that’s awesome!”

“Congratulations, man.”

Keith doesn’t process any of it. He tries for something encouraging but his lips are trembling and his hands are shaking. Nothing comes out. So he doesn’t speak. Or listen. Shiro deserves this. He deserves so much _god_. Shiro is kind and he is brave and he is everything. The gravity that keeps Keith on his axis, the sun that guides him. Shiro deserves a future full of nothing but happiness and love. Keith just was foolish enough to think maybe one day he could get to witness it. More, actively be a part of it.

“Whew, never saw that one coming. But you are like what- thirty something now so, I mean, it’s a good time to have kids. Even if you didn’t remember you had them because you know, we all just woke up in these alternate realities after closing the rift.”

As Hunk stops talking, all eyes trial slowly to Keith. Out of everyone, Shiro looks the least expectant. It’s awful.

“You’ll… be a great dad,” Keith manages, blinking hard and slow to keep himself in check.

He absolutely cannot do this here. Not now. Not with everybody watching. Shiro has a family. Shiro has children. Shiro is in a whole different reality Keith can never reach. This may be their final conversation, and still words burn on his tongue he can’t speak. It would be immeasurably selfish and cruel to tell Shiro everything he thought he finally had the courage to. The circumstances are all wrong. Shiro deserves happiness. Keith can’t give him that anymore. They’ve all lost too much. Keith refuses to give Shiro more to lose, more to mourn.

A breathless laugh cuts across the comms, it’s sharp and angular as if someone’s pressed a blade into Shiro’s side.

“That’s funny, I always thought you’d make a great dad too.” The words are spoken almost too softly to hear with the distortion. It still sounds far too exposed. But the grin Shiro wears is cutting. Keith isn’t sure he’s reading the implications right, but it doesn’t stop his breath hitching nonetheless. Something stings deep in his chest, settling between his ribs. Oh. The ache in his bones grows. He barely swallows the keening sound that crawls up his throat. 

“Pfft, Keith?” Lance teases over the screen, because apparently the silence has stretched too long. For the sake of all of them, he’ll play the jester if necessary. “You’re kidding!”

Lance’s eyes dart from Shiro to Keith repetitively, eyebrows knitted together. Despite his playful words, his expression is a jarring contrast. He sees it all, Keith realises. Maybe he _knows._ Thankfully Hunk and Pidge have yet to notice. Shiro is watching Keith quietly, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I - I’m being serious,” Keith speaks up before anyone else steers the conversation elsewhere. “I mean it.” _I mean it and so much more._ His eyes meet Shiro’s across the screen intently. The sky is pink behind him, the sun rising over the distant mountains. It looks beautiful, a little like the places he and Shiro said they’d go hiking one day when the Garrison eventually gave them some leave.

“I know, Keith.”

“What are their names?” Pidge probes, but she sounds uncertain. As if interrupting something private and sacred. Well, as much as it could be in a group call.

Shiro’s eyes flick back to Keith. “Andromeda and Perseus.”

Of course they’re named after Earth constellations. Lips catch on a smirk that barely surfaces at that. The amusement is subtle, but it’s better than focusing on the hollow hole where his heart should be. It’s still beating. Blood is pumping frantically through Keith’s veins, the pulse has an unpleasant bite that gnaws further into his bones and grinds them down.

“Keith?” Lance prompts for seemingly no reason and that’s the catalyst.

Amusement grows without permission into an overwhelming thing that seizes him suddenly. This whole thing is terrible. God it is so terrible. Keith doubles over against the wall. His shoulders shake and his eyes squeeze shut tight. Laughter that doesn’t belong to him erupts in his chest and it’s cleaved out of him unwillingly. The sound is chilling because of how empty it feels. But he can’t stop. He can’t even try. Keith doesn’t stop laughing. Even when his muscles begin to burn and he’s heaving for air. He laughs. _It hurts._

“Was it really that funny?” Hunk murmurs, mostly to fill the call with something else.

“Must be a Shiro and Keith thing…” Lance says back as discreetly as possible. But Keith catches it and finally is able to force his splintered composure back together. Better to laugh than to cry. Keith looks up to find Shiro’s is concerned, his face tinged with shadows that are too heavy.

Or maybe it’s not better.

“Good choice.” By the time Keith can get the response out, it’s no longer really that funny and he’s not too sure what exactly he was laughing at in the first place. Shiro’s ridiculously endearing taste in kid names, or the bitter dark realism tearing his entire being in pieces.

The claws of spacetime have sliced him open. He’s all bled out, bones bruised and soul weathered. Closing the rift had been the only way to save the universe, but the price to pay for meddling with powers bigger than them is high. For Keith, it’s a sacrifice of belonging somewhere. Losing a family. And more than that - losing the potential of something else, something that had been blossoming and unfurling so gently between himself and Shiro. Never spoken, never acknowledged. But present. 

“You haven’t told us where you are, Keith,” Pidge prompts.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Glancing around the bunker, Keith purses his lips. He has to make this convincing, he owes them all that much. He can’t let them worry or wonder about him their entire lives. He can’t let Shiro dwell on things that clearly cannot be and will not be. This is closure. It’s horrible. None of them want this, but it’s what they’re getting. Sealing up rifts, stitching up the exit wounds.

“Nowhere special really.” He shrugs, carefully selecting an image of the planet pre-invasion and dragging it onto the side of his screen. Before the war six hundred years ago, this planet had a surface like marble with dense cloud cover that formed shapes Keith had no idea how to articulate. “It’s nice.”

“Are you alone?” The 'again' goes unsaid but rings out. Pidge's eyes are watery, Keith notes. She also sounds scared. Not for herself, for _him._

Keith grits his teeth and pushes out the calmest smile he can muster. There’s only so much heavy artillery this bunker can probably withstand. People are out there fighting back and given the history of this war, they are still losing.

“Not exactly.” Loneliness is not a habit but an unfortunate routine. Funny. Keith finally thought he had rid himself of it, freed himself of those chains. New ones clap his wrists. Hot and heavy. Sinking. Bruising. The fire swirling in his chest must’ve risen up and seared the secrets into his forehead right in plain sight, because the words aren’t received well.

“What does that mean?” Hunk asks and Shiro leans forwards.

“Keith. What’s going on?”

Keith ducks his head. There comes that uncomfortable laughter again. “Guys. I’m fine, okay? It’s just…” Sigh. One truth exchanged for another, it’s only fair. “I’m gonna miss this.” Pause. “Us.” His eyes drift to Shiro and linger.  _You._

The words hit hard. Nothing more needs to be said on the subject. To hear these words from Keith is enough for the team to fall into a scene that is almost peaceful. It’s the end of one lifetime tethered together, the start of numerous new realities. For a moment, they sit in collected silence. A paying of respects, and an exchange of their devotion to each other. They may be in different realities, scattered by the hands of their universe and shoved into others, but in this moment their bonds feel unbreakable.

“I’m proud of us,” Shiro breathes. The words pluck a fleeting smile from Keith. Poignantly succinct. “We did it. We might not have ended up where we expected, but our universe is safe.”

 _Are you happy,_ Keith taps his fingers against the holopad insistently. _Are you happy, will you be happy, can you-_

“Don’t say Slav didn’t warn us,” Lance tries for something humourous but falls short.

Keith clicks his tongue at the interruption. “He didn’t warn us.” Even in another reality it seems Lance can still irritate him enough to snap back.

“Oh calm down edgelord, it’s just an expression.”

Keith narrows his eyes. And just because he can, he takes the chance to be petty. Pidge is right after all, it’s not like they can exchange postcards. “I don’t think you’re using it correctly.”

Lance pokes a finger at the screen, easily provoked as ever.

“Oh yeah? Well I don’t think you’re using _anything_ correctly!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense?!” Keith throws his hands out, exasperated but a million times more animated than before. Something about bickering with Lance has shifted a gear in him he didn’t know needed turning.

“No matter what reality, some things never change...” Pidge snorts.

“Is it weird to say that I’m going to miss that too? Like a lot more than I realised?” Hunk asks, prodding his fingers together. Shiro is biting his lip, holding back a smile. It’s sincere in the right way. Finally.

The playful spat dissolves away, leaving an unexpected afterglow. There’s warmth dancing beneath Keith’s skin. Lance blinks, a shaky smile splits his face in two. Pushing his hair back, he meets Keith’s eyes. Fondly. Keith returns it, clinging onto the fuzzy sensation churning in his stomach. At least with this, he can be selfish without causing too much damage.   

“I won’t miss your stupid mullet, that’s for sure.”

Keith rolls his eyes. Looks like they’re speaking in code, even after all this time. “Then I guess I won’t miss your lame sense of humour and everything that comes with it.”

“My sense of humour is amazing, thank you very much.”

Keith hums, meeting eyes with Shiro. With a shrug, Shiro smirks. Keith follows his lead. He would have followed Shiro anywhere. Always. Shiro has to know that. _Does he know that, does he know-_ “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Lance.”

The group burst into fits of hushed giggles. It’s sheepish and tentative, as if they’ve all been caught doing something they aren’t supposed to. The silliness nestles around them. Shiro’s head tilts as he laughs, the sunlight pooling in around him. Gentle hues of pink and orange dance around his face, illuminating it. The bunker shakes again, dirt trickling through the ceiling. It’s a grim reminder of this reality.

“Shiro,” Keith says and it tugs everyone’s attention to him so effectively he’s momentarily stunned. Until he realises the word is laced with unshed tears, raw and unashamed of it. There’s patience in Shiro’s eyes, despite everything. As if he’d wait a thousand lifetimes for whatever Keith had to say.

“Shiro.” That cements it. He leans forwards, pushing off the wall fiercely. To hell with this universe and the next one. To hell with all of it. Keith has to be sure Shiro knows. _No matter what._ Even if they have an audience. He can’t allow the unknown to snatch everything away from him. “Shiro, I-”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost and Hardly Noticed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464488) by [Shiverslightly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiverslightly/pseuds/Shiverslightly)




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